Of Like Mind
by Le1a Naberr1e
Summary: A series of complete vignettes about the relationship between Dooku and Jocasta Nu.
1. A Beautiful Mind

**Of Like Mind

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**A Beautiful Mind**

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_5 years before Yan Dooku's Knighthood..._

Ancient tomes were spread open in front of the pair as they studied. The little light that came into their secluded corner reflected off her pale hair and when Yan glanced up from his datapad the dance of light as she moved her head distracted him. His eyes rested on the top of her head for so long that she looked up inquisitively.

"What?" she asked.

"Nothing."

She bent her head to her work again. He kept on staring. After a few seconds, she raised her head, irritated.

"I can't help it," he said before she could speak, "I've never seen anything so beautiful."

Her eyes narrowed.

"You, that is," he said, to make his point clearer.

Her eyes were still narrowed but she was colouring as well. She looked down at her work.

"You have a beautiful mind."

She jerked back up. "A beautiful mind?" She was not flattered.

"What else?" It was his turn to narrow his eyes. "Don't tell me you've become as vain as that Twi'lek Padawan of Master Sapiro?" He drawled.

"Don't pretend you can't remember her name."

"Irrelevant. You used to be so sensible."

She favoured him with such a cold, piercing glare that he turned back at once to his tome. She glared at his dark head a few seconds longer for good measure before she also returned to her work. Strained silence, punctuated by the sporadic and furious flapping of turning pages, followed.

Jocasta finally closed 'The Annals of Healer Meg'i'ton', and reached for another tome. As she did so, she sneaked a glance at him. His pale face was even paler against his night-black cloak: he never tanned well. He was not a handsome boy, not technically: the bones of his face were too sharp, and his mouth's natural slant looked cruel except when he smiled. No, it was not his looks. It was something else, something closer to charisma…

"You aren't falling in love with me, are you?"

Her eyes jumped to his direct, smirking gaze. She flushed. "Don't flatter yourself."

"Well, one of us has to do it, don't you think?"

A cold glare was not as effective from a flushed face so she just ignored him and drew her tome to her.

"Which is a pity," he continued easily. He leaned in close - she looked up, startled - until his nose was almost touching hers, "because it would be so easy to fall in love …" his mouth twitched "… with your mind."

His eyes were so grey they were almost silver. She could see her own wide blue ones reflected in his, as well as the rest of her shocked face. He was laughing at her with his eyes, but it was not cruel, it was never cruel, although many people who only looked at his mouth tended not to know this. The amusement that stared at her out of those silver eyes was laced with gentle affection… and then something else…

Her eyes darkened at the same time his did. Jocasta bit her lip.

Yan drew back so sharply she almost fell forward. Instead, she sat frozen, blinking rapidly in confusion, then gradually she slumped into her chair, feeling dazed, then gradually annoyed, foolish and very worked up.

"Why don't you just run off and play with your nameless Twi'lek friend?" Jocasta snarled. She pushed back from her chair and got up abruptly.

He caught her wrist as she passed him. His eyes were downcast, hidden beneath long dark lashes, as he deliberately placed his thumb on her pulse. She hated herself for not yanking her hand away, for letting him hold her there.

"'Waterfall of Impassivity'" he murmured. "That's the most effective calming technique to use when you're…" his mouth twitched again; she longed to slap it "… worked up."

She yanked her wrist away and walked off.

Yan Dooku was left alone in the silence of the Archive stall. Without her to obstruct them, the shards of sunlight now bathed the tomes on the desk with a soft glow that reflected off his face, turning it from pale to golden. He rubbed his thumb and forefinger together, fancying that he could still feel Jocasta's furious pulse on his skin.

"I guess I was right," he murmured. "You are falling in love with me."

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	2. A Life Less Ordinary

**Of Like Mind

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**A Life Less Ordinary**

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_10years before Yan Dooku's Knighthood..._

The tip of the blue blade cut an iridescent arc through the pale glow of the overhead lamps, a trajectory of motion that would easily detach Jocasta's blonde head from her body.

The Force gave her due warning but it was an unfamiliar move and her body froze, perplexed by the problem of choosing from several counter-measures. The blade halted a hair's breath from her throat.

Literally a hair's breadth. A strand of pale hair, a wayward thread from her ponytail, fluttered to floor and died.

"Yield," Yan declared, his face flushed with triumph.

Jocasta rolled her eyes and switched off her blade. "Yielded."

They stepped back from each other, breathing hard but steadily, and exchanged the formal greeting of warriors - a bow, and the salute of lightsabre hilt to the head - and then, Dooku exploded.

"That win was too easy! You made no effort!"

She threw him an irritated glare over her shoulder as she walked to pick up a towel in the far side of the empty training room. "This wasn't my idea, you know. Now can we hurry up? I have to pick up a tome from the archive for my Master."

"Lightsabre practice is as important as study," Dooku lectured, following her. "You, Jocasta, are sorely in need of more practice."

This time the look was more than irritated. "Why didn't you practice with someone else then?" she snapped, throwing her towel over her shoulders. In one smooth motion, she sank down cross-legged to the floor and started stilling herself for the post-dueling exercises.

Dooku imitated her, his own movements managing to be both more graceful and less natural.

"I didn't practice with someone because you are superior to all the Padawans from our old Clan." He said earnestly and despite herself, she glowed. "After me, of course," he added, almost as an afterthought. He ducked when she swiped her towel at him. "I need you to stay in top form otherwise I will lose a valuable practice partner."

She rolled her eyes even as she smiled. It amazed how Dooku always managed to annoy and pacify her with equal ease. Still, she was eager to find an alternative dueling partner for her old Clan mate. He took all the fun deom their practice sessions, turning them into fierce competitions.

"You can challenge some of the older Padawans," she suggested, good-natured again. She pulled her hand all the way to the back of her waist, feeling the moisture on her skin cool as her blood chilled.

"They're not as good as they claim. I will injure their pride," Dooku declared with no small trace of pride as he pulled both hands to his back and stood on them.

Jocasta gave him a sidelong look of utter disbelief, twisting her second hand with some difficulty. "How considerate of you! Try dueling with Master Yoda then."

He laughed upside-down. "If I could duel with Master Yoda, why would I waste my time with _you_?" he asked with casual cruelty, his voice hardening. "Master Yoda doesn't approve of dueling. Curtailing me from it is his favorite way of punishing me. The only forms he ever teaches are the ones for deflecting missiles." He fell back to his feet and finished his exercises with a long stretch.

Still on the floor, Jocasta was torn between staying sullenly mute at the insult or protesting strongly against the insult to Yoda. In the end, her loyalty won out.

"It's not just Yoda. Every Master teaches Form 3. What else would a Jedi need to know?" she asked with some exasperation, as she stood on her hands. "We'll never need to _duel_ for real. Duels are just for exercise and even then, they encourage feelings of competition, jealousy, rage..."

"I, also, was in Yoda's class," he said wryly, picking up his things. "And you are in error."

"About what?" Jocasta asked, falling to her feet.

"Never needing to know how to duel in the real world. We'll need that knowledge when we encounter a Dark Jedi."

"_If!_ The last Dark Jedi was killed decades ago..."

"Or the Sith."

He walked out of the training room.

Jocasta stared at the door in total shock. Then with a small, muffled almost-oath, she quickly packed her things and took off after him. His long legs had already taken him half way down the corridor.

"The Sith?" She said sharply. He looked at her and she immediately lowered her voice. "The _Sith_? Dooku, do you need to visit the Healers? The Sith don't exist! They died out millennia ago."

"Jocasta, that's what our masters instruct us to believe," Dooku said, his voice an urgent whisper. "But I do not. There is no proof that none of the Sith side survived the last War. Just because the Council _likes_ to think that they've died out, doesn't mean that the Sith obliged them."

The training room had been temperature-regulated. The empty corridor was more reflective of the weather in Coruscant and it was a cool evening. The nearby windows let in a soft breeze that made Jocasta shiver. "Dooku, this isn't funny!" she said, even though she knew that her partner had a very small sense of humor.

His eyes were intent. "I'm not joking."

"You're actually serious! You really believe that the Sith still exist!"

"I am and do."

She shivered again. "Why?" Her voice lowered, hushed. "Did the Force tell you?" No matter what else she thought of her rather pompous Clan mate, she never doubted for one moment, that of all her peers, the Force was strongest with Yan Dooku.

His eyes lowered for the first time. There were frown lines on his brow. "I don't know. I just feel... When I read about old Jedi history - the former Jedi Bendu before the split... when I read about the Sith wars, I feel... I feel like if I am seeing something that's happened. No... Not that _has_ happened but something that's going to happen... An inevitability." He scowled as he struggled for words, his lack of usual coherency convincing Jocasta more than anything he said. "I feel like if I need to prepare for this thing... Like if I will have an important role - maybe the most important role to play in this."

"In what?" she whispered. "Another war?"

They had reached the end of the corridor, and into the open hallway. Jedi of all ages walked with varying degrees of serenity to and fro. A small group of Younglings, moving with the least serenity of all, were headed in Jocasta's and Dooku's way, accompanied by Master Tak-nu, the arm-wrestling teacher. Both Padawans shifted out of the way, bowed in greeting as the group passed them.

Master Tak-nu paused before Dooku. "Padawan, would you care to accompany me? I might need some assistance in demonstrating a few skills to the Younglings?"

Dooku bowed deeply. "Of course, Master."

Without another glance at Jocasta, he followed the Master and his class of excited Younglings, leaving Jocasta Nu by herself on the corridor, her mind filled with conflicting worrisome thoughts as she watched her enigmatic former Clan-mate disappear into the training room.

Dooku was always over-dramatizing things. Part of the reason why he was so determined to excel at things was rooted to an innate pride. It was as if ordinary – even living the ordinary life of a Jedi in ordinary times – was not good enough for him. He was wrong. He had to be.

Jocasta shivered again and started walking to the archives. It really was a cold evening.

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